I am doing a dive master.

Well, I was informed that technically this is a wrong way of putting it unless you are are in fact, sleeping with someone who is a dive master which I am not. Semantics aside though, I am doing the training to becoming a dive master. I am back in Thailand on Koh Tao, at New Heaven, where back in 2015 my love affair with scuba diving started in 2015 my love affair with scuba diving started.

When has the motto sex sells become part of a travel blogger's credo? Since when has it become more about the perkiness of your bum than your adventures?!

Today I want to gossip a bit, if I may. Just a little rant with a question to it, which I hope you, dear reader, can answer.

So here is goes…. On my recent India trip and in general I have noticed an increase of travel bloggers pretending to be fashion models and a whole lot of nakedness. What is up with that?

My first time in India was so different than I excepted and everything I could have hoped for. A story of beautiful chaos, big smiles & blue dogs.

India. I have dreamed of India for a long time. Actually, since I was a little girl watching movies of princesses and tigers. I would wrap tinkling anklets around my feet, paint a bindi on my forehead and put on silky harem pants to replay the scenes. My favorite piece from my dress up box was a red see-through scarf with dangling gold leaves, perfect for hiding my face just enough to pretend I was such a princess myself.
In my teenage year novels about the alleged romance of colonialism followed, making me long less for the romance but for the foreignness of this land. India.

Why travel alone? The reasons are plenty and some are quite personal. I share the true reason why I travel alone and it may not be what you think.

I am sitting in a beautiful hotel outside of Marrakech. It is one of many beautiful hotels I have recently visited and there are some more to come. And while I can appreciate them on the outside – I mean have you seen my Instagram lately?! – deep down I really wish I could savor each of them more. Savor their beauty, their wonderful Moroccan hospitality, the marble floors, the mint tea I have missed so much, and crispy msemen for breakfast and to most of all, not take them for granted, wishing myself far away.

The monkey forest in Ubud is the place for monkey business in Bali. Here I share where to stay and how to make the most of a visit.

People like hotels that feel like home. I disagree. Strongly. While I technically don’t have a home right now, I think the whole point of staying in a hotel is that it ain’t like home. I want crisp linens and someone who makes my bed (a habit I have not gotten into ever not even as an adult), I love a minibar and pretend it’s always free, and I love making a mess within 5 minutes because I know I can leave the next day and will just move said mess into my suitcase.
No, really, I don’t mind that hotels are nothing like a home. Having that said, though, there are some I would like to make my home.

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